


Wager

by pressedinthepages



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Gwent (The Witcher), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28010241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pressedinthepages/pseuds/pressedinthepages
Summary: Two idiots play a game.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 2
Kudos: 97





	Wager

**Author's Note:**

> [Hello! What about Geralt being smug about his win streak in Gwent and Jaskier- who Geralt doesn’t know plays- decides to do something about it. ] I may have...gone all in on the Gwent here, folks.

Geralt, with a flick of his wrist and a smirk of the brow, placed his final card on the table.  _ Yrden. Reset the power of all units on a row.  _ Devastating for his opponent, who had their Scoiatel units racking up boosts and vitality throughout the entire final round. No longer did their cards carry values of 30, 35, and 60. Oh no, they were returned to their original powers of 2, 4, and 5. The final score? Geralt had 38, and his opponent hung their head in defeat with 16.

Geralt took a swig of his ale as his opponent gathered his cards before tossing him a coin from across the table. “You played well.”

His opponent grimaced, rising to his feet. “Yeah, sure. That  _ Yrden  _ card is broken, it’s too powerful.”

Geralt squinted, crossing his legs beneath the table. “It’s not broken, you just need to learn to anticipate it. Don’t line up all of your high power cards in a row.”

The man rolled his eyes as he left, Geralt blinking in surprise.  _ Ah well,  _ he thought,  _ some people just don’t want to learn. _

__ Geralt motioned to the barkeep for another drink, flicking the coin in the air and catching it repeatedly. But suddenly, instead of the cool metal landing solidly in his hand, it was snatched from the air and held between two slender fingers just out of Geralt’s reach.

“You win this for me?” Jaskier tilted his head with a smile, toothy and bright. 

Geralt grunted as his new ale was set before him, crossing his arms over his chest petulantly. “Gwent. It’s been a good night.”

“A glass of red wine for me, sweet thing,” Jaskier crooned at the barkeep, and she blushed her way back to the counter. “You’re quite fond of the game.”

Geralt hummed, fiddling with a torn edge on one of his cards. It was one of the first that he collected, a  _ Redanian Archer. _ Fragile, but powerful with the right defense. “It’s...nice,” he murmured, “to just relax for a night.”

Jaskier didn’t even acknowledge the wine when it was set before him, his eyes trained solely on Geralt. “Would you play me?”

Geralt actually laughed at that,  _ the bastard.  _ “Do you even have a deck?”

“I will have you know, dear Witcher,” Jaskier patted the pockets of his doublet and trousers frantically, “that it is damned near  _ impossible  _ to travel across the Continent without amassing a wonderful collection of Gwent cards. I quite like my current deck, it has a lot of... _ character.” _

__ Geralt smirked, shuffling all of his cards back into his deck. “What will I get when I win?”

“How very presumptuous, Ger-Aha!” Jaskier exclaimed, yanking out a vibrant purple pouch from the inner pocket of his doublet. “Terrible form really, dear heart, to assume you would best me so easily.”

Geralt shrugged, drawing the top ten cards from his deck. He took a generous gulp of his ale as he looked over his hand. Nothing stellar, but he could work with it. 

Jaskier shuffled his own deck, flicking the cards back and forth in an effort to ensure the most efficient spread. “Alright. IF you win, my Witcher, you may have anything. Whatever first pops into your mind, it is yours. Same for me, if I find myself victorious. Deal?”

Jaskier’s eyes, so bright and blue and shining with mischief, caught Geralt off guard. He nodded and watched Jaskier deal himself ten cards as well. He traded two out, shuffling them back into the deck before holding Geralt’s hard-earned coin out in the palm of his hand. “Heads or tails?”

Geralt glanced at his own hand and found that he doesn’t really mind whether he went first or second. “Tails.”

Jaskier smiled and spun the coin into the air before it clattered back onto the table, heads-up. “Then I suppose I will go first.”

And this is where, dear reader, things took a turn. 

Geralt felt like he had whiplash throughout the entire first round. Thanks to the first card that Jaskier played, every subsequent card was near impervious thanks to the additional 2 armor provided. As soon as Geralt realized that he was bound to lose the first round he played a card with Resilience in an effort to secure the second. But then, Jaskier played  _ Queen of the Night, _ instantly purifying his  _ Vandergrift  _ and rendering him useless. 

And then, the next card from Jaskier’s hand,  _ was that- _

__ “Wait, hang on.  _ Eskel  _ has a Gwent card?” Geralt blinked, reaching for the card on the table. 

“Oh yes, he’s a lovely one. He boosts himself by one every. Single. Turn.” Jaskier polished off the remainder of his wine with a flourish, resting his chin on his hand and waiting for Geralt’s next turn. Geralt sighed and did some mental math before placing a  _ Tridam Infantry.  _ Next turn, he could place a  _ Temerian Drummer,  _ and there would be enough turns left for those two to damage Jaskier’s cards enou-

“I think I’ll pass now, darling.” Jaskier smiled, folding his three remaining cards into his hand. Jaskier currently had a score of 23, while Geralt had 11.  _ Shit.  _

Geralt sighed, folding his own cards into his hand. “Pass.” He knew that if he tried to outscore Jaskier on this turn, he’d only barely make a higher value, and it would put him an extra card short in the final round. 

Jaskier smirked, drawing another three cards and motioning for Geralt to do the same. They cleared the board into their respective graveyards, and Jaskier perused his cards. 

“Pass, dear.”

Geralt hummed, cursing himself on the spot. It was an easy tactic, one that would leave him with two less cards than Jask in the final round.  _ Well, at least I didn’t push it. _

__ And then Geralt was faced with another hard decision. His hand now only held valuable cards, and he’d have to waste one to win this round.  _ Fuck.  _

__ He put down his  _ Roche: Merciless,  _ hating every moment of it.  _ Damn, that’s a good card. _

__ Jaskier’s smirk only grew as Geralt then slid the card to the graveyard, each of them drawing three cards each once more. 

Once again, Jaskier’s deck baffled Geralt. He started with  _ Villentretenmerth,  _ which cost Geralt his  _ Donimir of Troy.  _ Somehow, miraculously, as Geralt played his last card, he could see himself pulling away with the win. He had two  _ Kaedweni Revenants,  _ as well as a  _ Vivienne: Oriole  _ that had been boosted to 12. That put him at 18, and Jaskier was only at 10. Geralt couldn’t realistically see him closing that gap with his final card. 

“Odd deck you have there, Jaskier,” Geralt finished off his own ale. 

“Yes, it does have a bit of spice, hmm?” Jaskier frowned, scratching at the stubble on his chin. His hair flopped over his forehead and something in Geralt’s gut really wanted to reach out and push it back, to feel his hair between his fingers. Geralt shook the thoughts off, his toes bouncing inside his boot. 

“You know, I think I may have saved the best card for last.” Jaskier sighed as he set the card in the melee row.  _ Geralt: Professional. Damage an enemy unit by 3. If its power was a multiple of 3, destroy it instead.  _

__ Geralt’s stomach plummeted as Jaskier took his 12 power  _ Oriole  _ and sent it to the graveyard, his brain spinning with the math.  _ Jaskier: 13, Geralt: 6.  _

__ “What the hell was that, Jaskier?” Geralt asked, breathless. Jaskier stood and held out his hand, waiting patiently for a final shake. Geralt gave it to him while his mind played catch-up, trying desperately to comprehend how his  _ bard  _ had beaten him so thoroughly at  _ his own game.  _ And,  _ wait a minute, when did I start thinking of him as *my* bard? _

__ They collected their cards and returned to their shared room, Geralt still silently stunned. 

“Well,” Jaskier clasped his hands together before shucking off his doublet, “I would like to claim my prize.”

Geralt looked over at Jaskier, his chemise undone and a blush creeping up the solid line of his chest. His eyes had a nervous air about them, and his fingers flexed at his sides. 

Jaskier closed the distance between them, standing just shy of Geralt’s grasp. “What would you have asked for if you had won?” 

Geralt glanced down to Jaskier’s lips, finding them pink and plump and yearning for his own. “I-I would’ve asked...for you.”

Jaskier bit his lip and slunk his hand up around Geralt’s neck. “Oh, Geralt. You have me. Always have, and always will.”

Geralt pressed into Jaskier’s hand at the nape of his neck. “And you, Jask? What do you choose for your prize?”

Jaskier smiled, his eyes watering the smallest bit. “You.”

Geralt sighed as Jaskier’s lips pressed against his, warm and wet and so  _ perfect  _ that his knees felt close to buckling. He braced himself on Jaskier’s hips, his hands fisting into the delicate fabric of his chemise with fervor. Jaskier’s tongue licked into his mouth and Geralt moaned into him. Jaskier tasted of wine and flowers and summer and Geralt was  _ intoxicated.  _

Jaskier parted first, resting his forehead on Geralt’s as he caught his breath. “Well,” he panted, “if I had known it would be this easy I would’ve taken up Gwent  _ ages  _ ago.”

Geralt chuckled, pulling Jaskier back in for another kiss. For he feared that he would never be sated, not when Jaskier was  _ right there  _ with Geralt as his prize.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading :) you can find me on tumblr @pressedinthepages


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